


Warmth

by bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies



Series: Gold In The Cracks [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Asexual Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sharing a Bed, Soulmate AU, oh no... it's cold... what do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies/pseuds/bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies
Summary: Pidge and Lance's radiator breaks, leaving their apartment cold.  Only one thing to do.  But cuddling can be complicated when one's relationship is queerplatonic.  Nothing like a late-night discussion to iron out a new QPR.





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Plot goblin, holding a part of Pidge and Lance's radiator: “gosh, what a nice pairing. Would be a shame if you two… had to share a bed for some reason…” ;3c

“Well, I think it’s safe to say it’s busted.”  Pidge sighs, sitting back on their heels and looking up at Lance, who stands behind them holding a flashlight directed at the radiator controls. 

“But how can that be?  It worked fine last week.”  Lance frowns at the radiator.  The previous week, the autumn air outside had finally started to cool off, then had warmed up again towards the end of the week.  When the warm spell ended that day, though, they had tried to turn the radiator back on in the evening only to find that it didn’t work, no matter how much they turned the dials.  Pidge had grabbed their tool kit (a going-away-to-college present from their father, who was adamant in the belief that no home should be without a proper toolkit, even a college apartment) while Lance had grabbed a flashlight, and he held it up for them to work as they poked around under the radiator’s cover.  That had been an hour ago.  Nothing they tried had worked in the slightest, and they were out of ideas. 

“We should call the landlord.”  Lance says, offering Pidge his hand as they got to their feet.  “Maybe they can send a maintenance guy to fix it.”

“It’s 10 PM.”  Pidge points out, glancing at the clock on the wall.  “There’s no way they would send someone over at this hour.  I doubt they’d even pick up the phone.”

“I’ll call tomorrow morning.”  Lance nods in agreement.  It would be rude to call so late at night, and they couldn’t risk making the landlord angry if they wanted him to fix it.

“So what are we supposed to do tonight?  Freeze to death?”  Pidge crosses their arms, the chill already getting to them.

“Guess we’ll just have to break out the hot cocoa and winter pajamas!”  Lance says cheerfully with a shrug, trying to stay positive. 

“Yippee.”  Pidge doesn’t look nearly as optimistic.  They shove the toolkit back onto the bottom of the bookshelf and stretch their arms above their head, fingers laced together as they pop the joints.  “Enjoy your hot cocoa.  I’m just gonna hit the hay.”  They had gotten up early to cram for a midterm that morning, so they’re even more tired than usual.

“Goodnight!  Sweet dreams!”  Lance calls, already on his way to the kitchen.

“Night,” Pidge tells him before disappearing into their room.  They dig through their dresser until they find a set of green plaid flannel pajamas, a Christmas present from their mother a couple of years ago.  They’re the warmest ones they have, usually only reserved for the dead of winter.  Pidge shivers as they get undressed in the cold air, quickly slipping on a loose sports bra and the flannel pajamas. 

They crawl into bed, grumbling at the coldness of the blankets that have yet to be warmed up with body heat.  Settling their laptop on their stomach (health consequences be damned, they weren’t planning on having any children anyway), they browse the internet for a little until they find themselves growing sleepy.  With a yawn, they close their laptop and set it underneath the nightstand, where it would be out of the way (there was no way they were getting out of this now-semi-warm bed to place it on the desk where it belonged).  They tug the blankets up to their chin, burrowing down into them and close their eyes. 

~~~~~

Pidge wakes up sometime in the middle of the night, feeling very cold.  They groan and pull the covers up further, but it doesn’t seem to help much.  They’re shivering, even under these blankets.  They try to fall back asleep again, but it proves to be an impossible task when all they can think about is how cold they are.  With a frustrated growl, they kick the blankets off and slip out of bed.  The wooden floors are practically unbearable under their feet at this temperature, so they move quickly as they open their door and poke their head out.  It’s even colder out here in the living room.  Wrapping their arms around themselves, they walk over to Lance’s bedroom door and hesitate with their hand raised, but ultimately decide to knock.  Nothing happens for a few moments, and they try again, a bit louder.  This time, there’s a sleepy-sounding grunt from the other side of the door, and a moment later, Lance speaks up, his voice sounding rough with sleep. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”  Pidge asks through the door.

“Yeah, of course.”  Lance says.  Pidge cracks open the door to find him sitting up in bed, wearing a hoodie and blue flannel pajama pants covered in a snowflake pattern.  He blinks sleepily.  “What’s up?” 

Now that they’re here, Pidge isn’t sure what to do.  “It’s… really cold.”

“It is,” Lance agrees, but it sounds more like a question.

Pidge crosses their arms, shifting their weight.  “Can we… I mean, is it okay if… if we…?”  They don’t know how to put this.  Luckily, Lance seems to catch on.

“Keep each other warm through the power of cuddles?”  Lance smiles brightly.  Pidge can feel the blush tinting their ears and cheeks, and they’re suddenly glad it’s dark in here.

“Yeah, that.”

“Of course,” Lance scoots over to one side of his bed and lifts up the corner of the blankets.  “Oh ugh, that is cold.”  He shivers as some of the night air sneaks in under the blankets. 

“You’re telling me.”  Pidge mutters, slipping into bed with him before they can think too much about this.

“Oh, Pidge, you’re freezing…” Lance wraps an arm around them, rubbing their back and tugging them closer.  He tucks their feet in between his own; their toes feel like icicles.  The single bed is small, not meant for two people, but they make it work by laying on their sides. 

Pidge closes their eyes and tries not to think about how close they are, how Lance’s hand feels rubbing their back, how they simultaneously want to press closer and pull away, because this is so new and different… It was one thing to lean on someone’s shoulder during a movie, but it’s quite another to actually lie in a too-narrow bed with them, as close as two people can be.  It’s new, and strange, and they can’t make up their mind if they like it or not. 

“Do you think seagulls have feelings?”  Lance asks, the words startling them out of their thoughts.  And just like that, part of their anxiety falls away, because this isn’t just lying beside some faceless, nameless stranger; this is _Lance_.  Lance, whose train of thought regularly jumps tracks that lead to out-of-the-blue questions like the one he just asked.  Lance, who puts on his ipod and sings and dances around the kitchen, belting out Juanes and Reik and High School Musical songs while he cooks dinner.  Lance, who is meticulous in his skincare routine yet still not above stealing Pidge’s shampoo in the shower from time to time whenever he wants to smell like apple and cinnamon.  Lance, who puts everyone before himself, every time, in everything, sometimes even to the point of infuriating his friends when he neglects taking care of himself in favor of helping one of them.  Lance, who accepted Pidge wholeheartedly, even when they couldn’t return his feelings in exactly the same way.  Lance, their soulmate, who showed them that having a soulmate isn’t nearly as terrible as they always feared it would be.

“Where in the quiznak did that come from?”  Pidge chuckles at the question. 

“Like, do you think they get mad when we don’t give them our snacks at the beach?”  Lance elaborates.  “Do they have friends, within their flocks?”

“I have to admit, I don’t know enough about ornithology or psychology to make an educated guess on that subject.”  Pidge says.  “Probably, though.”

“I think they do.”  Lance decides.  He pauses.  “You okay?”

“Yeah?”

“You just seem a little tense.”  Lance says.  “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I’m just… getting used to it.”  Pidge says.   

“Hey, after this, we can officially say we’ve slept together!”  Lance realizes.  Pidge snorts in amusement. 

“That’s not what that means.”

“I mean, we are _sleeping_ and we are together in this bed, so we are, in a literal sense.”

“We’re not sleeping.  You’re talking.”

“Excuse me, you are as much a part of this conversation as I am.  It’s your fault too.” 

Pidge shakes their head fondly.  The two of them grow quiet for a few minutes.  The movement of Lance’s hand on their back has gradually slowed, the vigorous strokes intended to create warmth lessening into something softer and more comforting. 

“Do you want to?”  Pidge asks, their quiet voice breaking the silence.

“Hm?”

“Sleep together.”

“I mean, clearly I’m down for it.  I don’t see another way for us to keep from freezing until they fix the radiator.”  Lance says. 

Pidge tenses at his words and sits up, looking down at him.  He blinks.

“Oh!  You meant… no,” he shakes his head.  “No, not like that.  Just sleeping.  I promise.  No funny business.  Just closing eyes and going through REM cycles in the same space as each other.”

“So you’ve never thought about it?”  Pidge asks.

Lance hesitates.  “Have you?”

“Not successfully.”  Pidge admits.

Lance looks perplexed.  “What does that mean?”

Pidge sighs.  “I’ve tried to picture us doing that kind of stuff, but it always… doesn’t work out.  I get too embarrassed and stop, or it just feels wrong and weird, or I get hung up on painting the background scenery in my mind and forget about the sex part.  And even if I do get to the clothes-off point, it’s more like I’m looking at an anatomy book than a, whatever, sex fantasy or whatever you want to call it.”  They shrug.  “Then I usually just give up and eat a snack or something.”

“Huh.  That’s interesting.”  Lance looks thoughtful. 

“What about you?”  Pidge looks down at him.

Lance rubs the back of his neck.  “I usually just think of something and jerk it off.  Simple man, simple needs.”

“What do you think about?”  Pidge asks, a little terrified of what his answer will be.

He looks up at them, expression cautious.  “What do you want to hear?”

They think about it.  “The truth.”

He looks off to the side.  “To be honest, it changes.  Sometimes celebrities, sometimes I don’t even focus on the person’s face enough for them to be distinguishable.  And… I’d be lying if I said you hadn’t made an occasional appearance.”

The thought unsettles them immensely, and it must show on their face, because he quickly speaks up again.  “To be fair, most of that happened before I knew you were aro-ace.  I did try to tone it down after I learned that, and now I usually get too guilty whenever I think of you and just swap you out for Channing Tatum or Beyoncé or someone.” 

“Guilty?”  They ask.  They feel an almost morbid curiosity, like someone might feel at a museum looking at a long-dead unwrapped mummy. 

“Because I figured it would make you uncomfortable.”  Lance explains.  “I mean, I never asked, but I just assumed, since if I knew someone who I wasn’t sexually attracted to said they thought about me while jerking it, I would feel massively creeped-out.” 

Pidge looks away and nods in agreement.  They feel almost… well, slightly violated, in a way, to realize that their body, without their knowledge, had appeared in someone’s thoughts in that way, even if it was just Lance.  They weren’t sure if their closeness made it better or worse in this situation, actually. 

“I’ll keep you out of my head when I jerk off.  I promise.”  Lance says seriously.  “Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

Pidge draws their knees up to their chest.  “You deserve someone better than me.” Their voice comes out quiet, barely a whisper in the stillness of the night air. 

Lance frowns.  “You stop that, or I’m going to give you a noogie.”  He sits up as well and does ruffle their hair, not quite a noogie but enough to make them swat at his hand.  “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; I don’t need anyone else, I don’t _want_ anyone else.  I don’t need this relationship to be anything more than what you’re comfortable with, and if that’s platonic, that is completely and one hundred percent fine with me.  I promise.  I know you think you’re not good enough, but you really are.  You’re perfect.”

“Perfect is a strong word.”  Pidge says.  ‘Perfect’ has expectations, some of which are beyond what they feel they’re capable of doing. 

“Hm, maybe.”  Lance acknowledges.  “Then how about this: you’re perfect for me, just the way you are.”

“You’re sure?”  Pidge asks, still uncertain.

“Positive.  You’re important to me.”  Lance says.  That phrase has come to mean something more to both of them, ever since they realized they were soulmates.  Saying ‘I love you’ was awkward for Pidge, and they weren’t entirely comfortable hearing someone say it to them either.  But ‘you are important to me’... they could understand that.  That was true, for both of them.  Lance reaches out and squeezes their shoulder reassuringly.  “Lay down again?  It’s cold.” 

Pidge nods and lays down beside him, tugging the blanket over their bodies again.  Lance wraps his arms around them, fingertips tracing random shapes in the space between their shoulder blades.  The warmth created by their bodies lulls them towards sleep. 

Lance speaks up a few minutes later, voice quiet and hesitant.  “Am I… good enough?  For you?”

Pidge doesn’t even have to think about it before they’re nodding and hugging him tighter.  “You’re perfect for me.”  They tell him.  He is kind and thoughtful and doesn’t push their boundaries past what they’re comfortable with.  Pidge couldn’t have asked for a better soulmate.  “You’re important to me.”  Again, there is more meaning behind those words, their way to describe a deep sort of love that transcends platonic and is different from romantic or familial; it’s something all their own, something that words alone aren’t enough to describe accurately.  Luckily, Lance seems to understand, and Pidge doesn’t mind the quick press of his lips to the top of their head before he settles down and they both drift off to sleep.   

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: as someone who lives in the snowiest city in the world, in a country that for some reason that is beyond me DOESN’T FREAKING INSULATE THEIR APARTMENTS, I can confirm that it is in fact possible for the COLD alone to actually wake you up. Every single night. I hate winter. My electric blanket is my savior, since you can’t leave kerosene heaters on when you sleep. I would kill for a radiator tbh (T^T) Or a QPR buddy. Thank goodness it's starting to warm up, finally. 
> 
> Please let me know if you liked it! I have a [ tumblr](http://gold-leeaf.tumblr.com/) and a [NSFW tumblr](https://bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies.tumblr.com/) if you want to see me scream about Voltron, or shoot me a request. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
